Chapter 348: The Variable (Part 12)

  "Who am I, do you remember?"

  Javi turned his head to look at Inham, his face still holding that blank, paper-like confusion. He frowned, thought for a moment, and shook his head.

  Inham sighed and asked again: "Then do you remember who you are?"

  Javi thought for a moment, then still shook his head.

  "Then do you still remember how to use this?" Inham walked a short distance away, took a sword from a swordsman's corpse, and tossed it to Javi.

  Javi caught it, and a light immediately came into his eyes. His hand gripped it steadily and tightly, as if this sword were a key fitting perfectly into a lock. He looked at the sword in his hand, thought for a moment, then quickly made a feinting thrust forward. With a light thud, a mark appeared on a wall more than ten meters away from Javi.

  "It's good that you haven't forgotten this. Then you should still know how to use this, right?" Inham took a scroll from his robes and gave it to Javi.

  Javi took the scroll and nodded. It seemed he had only forgotten his past experiences and the people he knew; these everyday objects and skills, he still remembered.

  Inham said lightly: "I know you have many questions to ask me, but now is not the time. You use this teleportation scroll to go to Erathia first. I have already arranged everything. Someone will be waiting for you when you get there."

  This time, Javi did not nod, but seemed to be thinking, as if considering why he should trust this person he did not know.

  "Even if I don't say it, you should be able to feel that I am helping you, am I not?" Inham said, smiling as he looked at Javi.

  Even with his usual mask-like smile, he had enough charm and persuasiveness. And now, the affection and warmth in his eyes could be felt even by an idiot, let alone his own son. Javi looked at him and finally, slowly, nodded.

  Suddenly, a loud, clamorous noise came from the direction of the square. Inham frowned and looked in that direction.

  "Good, then let's leave it at that. You go first. It seems the matter here will also come to an end soon. Once this is resolved, things will be much more peaceful." After saying this, Inham turned and sprinted towards the square.

  Logically, the situation on the square should have long been stable, and the sudden commotion was not just the sound of slaughter. It must have been a major accident. And as long as it was an accident, no matter what kind, it represented an opportunity for Inham.

  Once Oufu was completely defeated, the greatest unstable factor in Magnus's eyes would be himself. Inham knew this very clearly. Although Magnus might not be in a hurry to deal with him now, with Lancelot's support, it was only a matter of time before he returned to the Papal throne in Adela's body. And the next person he would deal with would naturally be himself. So now that there was an opportunity, he absolutely could not miss it.

  Javi's injuries were healed, and the truth of The Black Star was understood. With these two shadows that had lingered in his heart gone, how to deal with Magnus was the only remaining problem. And as long as there was any exploitable opportunity, Inham had absolute confidence in solving this problem perfectly. So even he couldn't help but feel a bit excited now, his full attention focused on the square ahead, not looking back.

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  Behind him. Javi did not use the teleportation scroll but watched his departure with a strange look in his eyes. This look was completely different from the simple blankness from before; it contained too much, too deep, something that a person who had lost his memory should not have. Even when Inham had just turned his back to him, the hand gripping his sword had twitched slightly, but in the end, he did not move.

  After Inham had completely disappeared from view, the expression on his face also completely changed. It was as if a person who had been forced to be a sculpture for hundreds of years had finally gained freedom and could finally release himself. His face, which had been simply blank, began to fluctuate, then turned to excitement, and immense excitement. His handsome features twisted as all his emotions and exhilaration flooded onto his face.

  He was laughing, but with no sound, only a panting sound coming from his throat. His twitching face had a hint of madness from the over-excitement. The ecstasy in his eyes was as if all the happiness and excitement of this person's life had been concentrated into this one moment. And yet, just moments before, he had been able to completely suppress such agitated emotions, hiding them under a cold and blank expression, undetected even by someone like Inham.

  In his silent laughter, he also looked towards the square, his gaze similar to Inham's, both seeking an opportunity, but with more desire, more burning, like a wolf that had been hungry for a thousand years.

  At this moment, the situation on the square could no longer be described as chaotic.

  Gru's fall had completely tipped the balance of the battle in favor of The Radiant Citadel. After losing several times their number in corpses, the swordsmen and priests finally gained the upper hand. The remaining orcs, half-willingly and half-forced, were suppressed in the center of the square. At this point, as long as two or three great mages cast a major spell, the battle would be over.

  But just one person completely overturned this already stabilized situation. Even with Gru's abilities, it would have been impossible to turn the tide of such a massive battlefield single-handedly, but this person did.

  In fact, no matter what the situation, it was like a gigantic machine composed of countless tiny joints. As long as you found the most critical position, you could control everything with a single move.

  "A giant Black Dragon has already destroyed the royal palace of Erathia and is heading towards Celeste..."

  When this sentence came from the mouth of the court swordsman from Erathia, everyone was stunned. The two who should have been the most composed, Lancelot and Adela, were actually the most abnormal in their reaction, almost like wooden chickens. The others were just simply shocked, but they two knew best what this Black Dragon truly meant.

  "Moriel is out? How could this happen?" Adela was dumbfounded. Only he knew that the current The Radiant Citadel no longer had the strength to face an ancient dragon.

  "Your Majesty... can you no longer summon the Guardian Angel Aura?" Lancelot asked Adela in a low voice.

  "I can't..." Adela shook his head, looking at the ring on his hand. His voice was weak and unsteady. "The power of the Ring of Kings is already exhausted. It will take several years to accumulate again... Could it be that The Radiant Citadel will really..." He shook his head again, somewhat puzzled. "...But isn't that the seal placed by Archibald? How could it break for no reason at this time..."

  "Explain the matter more clearly. What is that Black Dragon?" Adela frowned, asking the swordsman.

  The swordsman opened his mouth, but only a weak sound came out, then his head drooped powerlessly. Under the treatment of the two high priests, his injuries seemed to have not improved in the slightest but were instead getting worse.

  "What's going on?" Adela looked at the two high priests supporting the swordsman.

  "We don't know... It's a bit strange. Our healing magic seems to have no effect... The aura in his body is getting weaker and weaker." The two high priests were also at a loss.

  "What?" Adela quickly walked towards the swordsman.

  "Your Majesty, come back." Lancelot suddenly erupted, charging straight at Adela. His left hand grabbed his back, while his right hand thrust a sword at the dying swordsman held between the two priests. The sword left his hand, and its dazzling light traveled over ten meters in an instant, reaching the man's head. But only half a blink slower than Lancelot, Adela's body also jolted, and his forward steps immediately became backward steps.

  But they were both too late. The news about the Black Dragon was too shocking, and the blow to them was too great. Coupled with the victory that had seemed within reach, this emotional rollercoaster had dulled their spirits. Earlier than both of them, the dying swordsman's hands suddenly plunged into the waists of the two high priests supporting him, his entire palms disappearing completely into their bodies, as if grabbing into two large balls of cotton. The two high priests did not notice at all, their expressions not even changing. Then the swordsman waved his hands, and the two high priests flew out, crashing towards Lancelot.

  The bodies of the two high priests did not fly straight at him like thrown stones. Instead, they were moving with strange steps, twisting their bodies like snakes to bypass Adela before charging towards Lancelot. Their hands were either throwing punches or clawing, and their faces were full of astonishment, completely unaware of why they were making such movements.

  Lancelot's body froze. He dodged to the side, avoiding the two high priests. He had to dodge. The skin of the two thrown high priests had already turned completely black. After Lancelot dodged, they crashed into each other. These two, with their vividly confused expressions, fell apart like two bags of rotten mud. A strong stench of decay and the aura of Necromancy instantly filled everyone's nostrils.

  And because of this dodge, he could no longer grab Adela, and his thrusting sword had also gone astray. The sword light, like a white ribbon, only grazed past the swordsman's face. The swordsman had already grabbed Adela at a speed faster than Lancelot's.

  Adela's reaction could not be called slow, but his body movements were simply too slow compared to Lancelot and the swordsman. He didn't even have time to release a single spell. Even though his true identity was someone else, this was, after all, Adela's body.

  "So it really is you." Lancelot looked at the swordsman and said, word by word. The sword light that grazed his face shattered his original, blood-covered face into fragments, but what was revealed underneath was not a mess of blood and flesh, but another face. This person, who claimed to be a court swordsman from Erathia, was actually Ethan, who had been imprisoned in that special cage all along.